


A Little Stranger

by chewysugar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Bathtubs, Bisexual James Potter, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Bisexual Sirius Black, F/M, Fatherhood, First War with Voldemort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Godric's Hollow, Implied Sexual Content, Love, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Motherhood, Multi, Nudity, Post-Marauders' Era, Pregnancy, Reconciliation, Squabbling, Virgin Remus, implied threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: Just how exactly did everyone react to the news that Lily was expecting?





	1. Remus Lupin and the Aftermath of Afternoon Delight

Out of all of them, Remus was the first to find out, and he did so quite by accident.

His keen senses picked up on it while sniffing out a rogue niffler that had escaped in Godric’s Hollow. He was particularly wary of being here. His last visit to the house in Godric’s Hollow had been summarily cut short when James and Lily had disappeared to finish sorting their things in an upstairs bedroom. It had taken a solid hour for them to return, but Remus’ senses had picked up on every little sound and smell. Still, he would never turn down his best friends for anything, so here he was crawling around on the floor while Lily attempted to trap the niffler in the attic and James did heaven only knew what.

Remus has been close to catching the niffler when a most unfamiliar feeling made itself known to him. Pressed on his hands and knees with his nose almost against the fireplace, he detected something decidedly other that made him sit up and stare in disbelief.

It wasn’t so much a smell as it was a sensation. It plucked at the protective wolf in him. There was something in the house that needed to be protected aside from Lily and James.

Once more Remus got down on all fours. He followed the peculiar feeling across the drawing room, but try as he might he could not find the source. Not under the coffee table, not under the rug; not behind the china cabinet.

Remus crawled hurriedly toward the front hall, guided by his wolf. He felt as if something dreadful would happen if he didn’t find this mysterious thing, yet couldn’t explain why.

The word “cub” resonated over and over again in his mind. But that was absurd; Godric’s Hollow wasn’t home to any werewolves. He himself didn’t have to worry about having sired any young because he was still a virgin as far as women went.

What in the name of Merlin was going on?

Remus was all but scampering into the kitchen now. The sensation grew; he would be on it soon; he would trace this alien something or other to its source and—

“Moony!” A woman’s gasp stopped Remus dead in his pursuit. Despite its being the middle of the day, Lily stood near the kitchen sink in one of James’ shirts and a comfortable pair of pyjama bottoms. She must have just come downstairs; she smelled like soap and shampoo, but the smell of her showered skin and hair wasn’t enough to mask that elusive unknown from Remus’ perception. 

Remus blinked.

_Cub cub cub cub cub._

Lily stared as if worried for Remus’ sanity. “Did you find the niffler?”

“What?”

“The niffler,” Lily repeated, still as if gravely concerned about her friend’s mental health. “What James asked you here to sniff out? I, er, got distracted upstairs and haven’t had any luck.”

“Oh.” Remus got to his feet. He tried to think of something other than this nagging feeling, but his wolf was insistent on some kind of cub being present. But Lily wasn’t a werewolf, and unless she was hiding something in the oven...

Just as Lily turned back to attend to the dishes, Remus’ eyes fell to her midriff. Instinct and reason connected like a set of train tracks so powerfully that he almost heard a sharp, audible click.

“It’s not as if it’s a huge bother,” Lily admitted with her back to Remus. “I still agree with Hagrid that niffler’s are sort of cute. But James is worried about all the heirlooms. Between you and me, Great Aunt Hortencia’s silver tea set could disappear and I wouldn’t lose any sleep; it's ghastly.”

Lily sighed.

“It’s only that...well, James has been so aggravated, and I don’t blame him. He’s trying to keep himself occupied in light of all this but sometimes he’s like a beast.”

Lily laughed softly to herself. Remus, still staring in awe, noticed Lily press her legs together at some carnal thought. Only the most virginal mind wouldn’t have caught that subtle gesture. While Remus had yet to be with a woman (by his own choice; he was too frightened of how proprietary his wolf got when aroused; at least with James and Sirius he could be tamed) he wasn’t a prude by any means. Lily and James had been operating under great duress along with the rest of the Order. Now that they were taking some much needed time away, they had nothing else to occupy themselves with; and what were a pair of young newlyweds to do all day but exactly what they’d done the last time they’d had Remus over as a guest. What else did they have to do but—

“Shag,” Remus said without meaning to.

Lily paused in the act of scrubbing a cast iron frying pan. She turned her head slowly, eyes narrowed.

“I beg your _sodding_ pardon?” Her cheeks had turned faintly pink. The flush made the aura of new life within her pulse like ripples water.

Remus grinned a little to himself. “Sorry. Just, ah, thinking about Sirius.”

Lily smirked, satisfied with Remus’ answer. “Oh, don’t with the mental images. I may start getting frisky.”

It was Remus’ turn to frown. Surely it wasn’t advisable to fornicate when one was newly pregnant?

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I rather fancy the idea of two good-looking blokes together," Lily stated matter-of-factly. "Because I’m young and my husband and I are part of a mindless war. And also I was joking. You’re one of my best friends, Moony, but I’m perfectly satisfied with the handsome beast sleeping away the afternoon upstairs.” And again she laughed to herself; again, body language that she could not help proved to be the dead giveaway...well, that, along with her hour long disappearance upstairs with her husband and the fact that she was freshly bathed despite it being after one o’clock in the afternoon.

She’d showered because she didn’t want Remus' keen sense of smell to pick up on the fact that she and James had been otherwise engaged. The last time he’d inadvertently caught them at it had likely left her wary. The last time, Remus realized, was likely the charm. 

And Lily didn’t know that there was life growing in her.

Lily drained the rinse water. She turned, and then stopped short at the sight of Remus smiling like a perfect idiot at her.

“Moony?”

She was going to have a baby. She would be a mother and James—strong, loyal, passionate James Potter—would be a father. In the midst of all this disorder and chaos, the Potters were going to have their own little peace sign.

Lily snapped her fingers under Remus’ nose. “ _Moony_! I need the dish cloth.”

Remus shook himself. He wouldn’t breathe a word, not until anyone else found out, that was for certain. The knowledge that he was the only one who knew, though, made him feel almost buoyant with joy.

“Right.” He stepped back, watching as Lily snatched an ugly plaid drying towel from the oven door. Despite his desperately wanting to shout the news to the heavens, he held his silence.

Something squeaked near the window sill. Remus narrowed his eyes as he saw the fluffy black backside of a niffler dive for safety in the dead flowerbed outside.

Even before he left with an excuse that the little creature had eluded him, Remus decided he’d let it live. Life, he mused to himself just before he disapparated, mattered especially today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I made James, Remus and Sirius casually bisexual. Do you realize that my last three HP stories have been about bisexual One True Threesomes.
> 
> It's a triptych. I made a bisexual triptych, and it's all Janelle Monae's fault!
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'll post more soon!


	2. Lily Potter and the Marvels of Muggle Medicine

As Lily had known her family doctor even before she’d gone to Hogwarts, issues regarding her body were not to be taken to St. Mungo’s. Magical maladies were all well and good, but as far as Lily was concerned, the more mundane issues were to be taken to the Muggle world from whence she came.

There was also the subject of familiarity; Doctor Finch had helped Lily through the confusion of her first menstrual cycle; she had complied with Lily’s request that her birth control be sent to her parents to later be owled to Hogwarts due to Lily’s mortification at some of the side effects that birth control potions were said to cause. When Lily had broken out in an allergic reaction the summer before Sixth Year, Doctor Finch had negated the need for St. Mungos by informing Lily that she had reacted to the pesticides used to fumigate her family's front lawn.

So, naturally, Lily wasn’t about to go to the wizarding world to help solve her recent dizziness, nausea, and inability to hold her meals. One afternoon, while James was engaged in transfiguring the bricks in the fireplace into precious quartz just for something to do, Lily quietly left Godric’s Hollow for London.

It was a risky venture, but she had the boon of James’ invisibility cloak to help her. Once she’d apparated in the alley outside the doctor’s office in the West End, she stowed the cloak in her bag, entered the reception, and waited patiently.

Doctor Finch was delighted to see Lily. The woman was tall, with angles, but also enough softness to make most of her patients feel at ease. Her grey eyes lit up at the sight of Lily waiting in the cramped office.

“My darling girl!” She gushed. “Oh, it’s been ages! And what is that on your finger? But of course your mother told me all about your wedding. What was the lad’s name again? Parker? Potter! That’s it. My daughter decided to marry—yes, Josephine is married now. Some upper crust chap named Fletchley. Eton educated, you know, and Josephine is such a feminist that she insisted on hyphenating. Can you imagine? Josephine Finch-Fletchley! To this day I don’t know how I manage contain myself. But they’re quite happy. And I can see from the glow in your cheeks that your husband is keeping you very happy indeed. Now then, what can I do for you?”

Lily wouldn’t have traded Doctor Finch for all the gold in the Potter family vault. She made to answer, but at that moment the nausea that had been plaguing her since before Halloween struck. The office spun, and her stomach churned.

“Oh dear,” Doctor Finch clucked. “Dead on your feet.”

“And then some,” Lily admitted. “I have spells like this every day, and I can’t seem to keep any food down.”

Doctor Finch raked Lily with her maternal, no-nonsense eyes. “Hm. I dare say it could be the flu. There is a rather bad bout going around.”

Lily was well aware of that, but she and James were protected from such things by a yearly dose of _Friar Flavesham’s Influenza Unguent_. But that, of course, wasn’t for Doctor Finch to know. Wizards were normally highly immune, but particularly virulent viruses could still sneak in from time to time.

“Have you done any traveling, my dear?”

“None.” Traveling under her and James’ circumstances would have been a luxury. 

“Blood tests,” Doctor Finch said. She scribbled something on a clipboard. “Fortunately the lab is open so you can get done and dusted right now if you’ve a few hours.”

Lily wanted her diagnosis yesterday if it meant not feeling as if she would either fall over, vomit, or feel ravenously hungry at a moment’s notice. Doctor Finch led her to the laboratory, and an hour later her tests came back negative for low blood sugar, high cholesterol, gout, influenza and radioactive exposure.

“Hm.” It was Doctor Finch’s preferred word of the day. Lily, thoroughly nervous and even more lightheaded after having five pints of blood drawn, swayed on the examination table. The paper blanket was sticking to her backside, and she wanted nothing more than for James to be there.

Sensing that her patient was about to collapse, Doctor Finch called for a paper cup of water. She watched as Lily drank, and then asked for another. Lily drank again, keenly aware of her doctor’s eyes on her.

As she gulped down a third cup of water, Doctor Finch said casually, “So how’s your sex life?”

Lily spat out her water, eyes wide.

“I—

Doctor Finch smirked. “Pardon the bluntness. I should have said it more professionally: are you sexually active at present, Mrs. Potter?”

Lily had been the best friend of a group of four rowdy boys since the end of Sixth Year. She’d tried to out-shame notorious rake, Sirius Black, regarding their sexual activities during a very boring meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. She and Marlene McKinnon had French kissed in Seventh Year on a dare from Frank Longbottom and both had enjoyed it so much that they’d taken things a bit too far. She wasn’t a prude; she rather prided herself on not being a prude. But with this woman who was like a mother asking her something so personal, Lily felt like the most inexperienced virgin this side of the Berlin Wall.

As she was apt to do when rattled, she went on the defensive.

“James and I are both _clean_ ,” she said icily. It wasn’t a result of medical testing; again, the medicinal wonders of the wizarding world enabled a certain degree of non-existence when it came to the subject of any kind of sexually transmitted disease.

“Are you?” Doctor Finch said distractedly as she scribbled something in her clipboard. “How perfectly lovely.” She reached into a cupboard for a plastic container with a sealed red lid.

“What’s this?” Lily asked, regarding the container suspiciously.

“For a urine sample,” said Doctor Finch. “Just to be safe. The bathroom is down the hall and to the left, dear. I’ll leave you too it.”

Thoroughly disgruntled and still feeling like she would lose consciousness, Lily did her doctor’s bidding. The sample was taken away and Lily sat for fifteen lonely minutes in the office, chewing her fingernails down to nearly bloody stumps as she wondered what in the world was wrong with her.

“Well, you can sleep better at night—at least to a point,” Doctor Finch said brightly as she entered the room. “You don’t have the stomach flu, my dear.”

“Then what?”

Doctor Finch laughed. “Lily, honestly! You’d think you knew nothing at all about your own body. You’re pregnant, love.”

Lily stared at her doctor. Then the room swayed, and once she realized that Doctor Finch wasn’t about to shout “Only joking,” she fainted then and there.

* * *

Lily was in such a state of disarray when she left the clinic fifteen minutes and a bottle of orange juice later that she didn’t bother apparating home. It was foolish in the extreme, but rationality had disappeared with Doctor Finch’s conclusion. In any case, she didn’t want to apparate ever again; she couldn’t risk splinching herself, not with the life growing inside her womb.

Whether it was dumb luck or divine providence, Lily wasn’t accosted by even a muggle hobo as she rode the underground to King’s Cross, took a train to Trowbridge, and then hired a taxi to drive her to Godric’s Hollow.

By that time, the realization had not only settled in, but it had unpacked all of its belongings and reupholstered the furniture.

A mother.

Her.

Part of her railed against the idea for many reasons. She was only nineteen--an adult in both words, yes, but she still felt so much like a child. And what right had she to bring a child into the world when it was in such bloody turmoil? The Death Eaters had made it plain as day that they didn’t care tuppence for the life of a child many times before. If it were her own...

Thinking on all the grim tales she’d heard and read about, and even been party to herself, made her burst into silent tears during the two hour taxi ride from the station in Trowbridge. She tried all she might to keep her face down, hidden from the older gentleman's sight. For the must part, she succeeded; but as the onslaught of emotions battered at her very being, Lily wasn't able to keep the sobs at bay.

The driver was kind enough to pull over. He turned off the meter, and turned round in his seat.

"I'm suh-sorry," Lily hiccuped.

The man only smiled understandingly. "Bad news?"

“Yes,” Lily sobbed. “I mean, no. Good news I suppose. I’m pregnant. I found out today.” She didn’t know why she told him, only that she needed to to make it real.

The gentleman sighed, and then turned back around. Lily sat up straight, finding herself able to pull her wits together. She gave the driver a brave nod, and he resumed driving down the lane. “Babies are gifts, but some gifts can be frightening, especially if you don't know what they are.”

Lily laughed tremulously. "It's not just the baby...it's just that...everything seems so horrible right now." She couldn't tell him the truth, obviously. But she felt that if she didn't at least share a portion of her dread with someone that it would devour her from the inside. 

The man sighed. “My wife had our first two children during The War. I was fortunate enough to be out of the action as a surgeon. She rang me almost three times a week when I was in the field. Terrified, she was. Sometimes angry. I couldn’t blame her. Beautiful creature, my wife. But who wants to have a child in the midst of bombing and bloodshed?”

Lily paid rapt attention, oblivious of the bend in the road that led to the village where she lived.

“But it was the best thing to ever happen to both of us,” the man went on with a warm smile. “It’s a cliche, as the young folk today are so fond of pointing out. But the way I see it, what’s the better choice when surrounded by darkness than to shine a few lights?”

Lily swallowed. The man was only trying to relate to her through experience. He had no idea just how close to home his words were hitting.

When he pulled the taxi to the fountain in the middle of the square, Lily gave him all the Muggle money she had in her purse. His eyes widened, and he was in the midst of refusing, but Lily shook her head.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning down near the open window. “I’ve been a wreck ever since I found out.”

A smile crossed the man’s grandfatherly face. 

Lily laughed. She wanted to remember this kind, muggle man. "What's your name?"

"Harold. Most folks call me Harry."

"Harry," Lily repeated. She liked that. "Thank you, Harry."

He tipped his hat to her and said, “If you’ll pardon me saying so, whoever your fellow is is one lucky man.”

Lily waited until the taxi drove out of sight before she turned to face the direction of home. It was a cold, grey November day. Most of the children of the village were away at school in the neighbouring town. But as Lily walked on legs more steady than those she’d went to London on, she heard the delighted squeal of a small girl from Number Twenty-Six. She heard a royal tantrum from somewhere near the corner shop, and though it filled her with a sense of irritation, it also didn’t annoy her as much as it had.

Perhaps there wasn't so much to be afraid of in being a mother as she'd thought.

She walked almost dreamily down the lane, aware of only the beautiful possibility before her.

“Lily!”

James came rushing down from the direction of their  home. He looked frantic, his eyes wide. Tall, lean as a tiger, with his stupid untidy dark hair and two weeks worth of beard; in the frenzy of trying to find her, he hadn't bothered to button up his shirt all the way. He looked like a perfect idiot, but he was _her_ perfect idiot. Lily grinned like a drunkard as she hurried towards him. He was almost incomprehensible with worry, but that, she knew, was what would make him such a wonderful father.

“You were gone so long,” James gasped, holding her to him. “I tried to contact Alice by floo but she said you weren’t there. And then I tried asking Sirius to go out and look for you, but he was working on that stupid motorcycle of his, and—Lily, what is it? What’s wrong?”

For she had started to cry again. But this time it was out of joy. James had likely torn their house apart in his efforts to find her. Her mind brimmed with images of him holding a tiny baby; of how beautiful he would be when he had to look after something small and defenseless—something that they had created.

Lily took his hands in hers. Long fingers, roughened with callouses. She'd felt his touch time and time again, and it was in that touch that this little life had been created.

“I have something to tell you,” she said, her heart beating in excitement.

He was going to be so happy when she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But is he going to be happy? 
> 
> Additionally, I'm certain that the origin of Harry's name exists somewhere in all the ancillary Potter material. As I enjoyed the series more before all this extra information came out, I could care less.
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far!


	3. James Potter and the Weight of Paternity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has commented, bookmarked and given this story kudos so far! You're all outstanding!
> 
> This chapter gets a hard PG-13 at the very end, but it's really no worse than content shown on the CW.

James Potter was not happy. As a matter of fact, he was everything but: livid, anxious, agitated and altogether at his wit’s end. He hadn't the faintest idea how he was going to fix this, and that made it all the more unbearable. 

There was nobody to hex or jinx; he couldn’t smart talk his way out of this; he couldn’t rely on his best friends because that would entail voicing what was happening, and to voice it was to make it true. James didn’t want it to be true because there was no method for altering the state of it.

“Say something.”

Lily sat on their bed. She looked so ashamed of herself, and that wasn’t fair in the slightest. Granted, the James Potter of several years ago would have pinned the blame directly on her because she was what was making the situation difficult. But it wasn’t her fault. Fault didn’t even factor into the equation, because how could a baby be something as horrible as anyone’s fault?

It had only been thirty minutes since she’d come home. Yes he’d been out of his mind with worry; but that paled in comparison to this.

He hated seeing Lily so fraught and vulnerable, especially on account of himself.

James knelt in front of her and took her into his arms. So warm and right against him. If he was being particularly maudlin, it was that warm tightness that had resulted in this entire situation; but James didn’t have it in himself at the moment to feel much of anything, least of all in the mood for trying to find humour.

“A baby,” James said for lack of anything constructive.

Lily’s breath tickled his neck as she laughed softly. “Yes. You know? A small human being bearing genetic traits of both parents?”

Put that way it sounded perfectly commonplace. Yet how could it be when it—the baby—had caused so much upset? James tensed at Lily’s little joke. “This isn’t funny”

Lily pulled away from his embrace. She frowned, her momentary lost doe persona vanishing. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall saying anything about it being funny.”

James got to his feet, all rancor returned. “Good,” he said. “Because it isn’t. A baby...god, what are we going to do?”

“Oh, joy,” Lily said huffily. “At least you’ve done me the courtesy of making it _both_ of our problems.”

She may well have stabbed James in the gut. He stared at her, open-mouthed and incredulous. Every tribulation and trial they'd faced since being together had been a joint endeavor. Her thinking that he was capable of being so crass--so heartless--cut him to the bone. To her credit, Lily instantly looked as if she wished she hadn’t spoken.

Then, because the void in James left by Lily’s verbal stab needed to be filled by something, anger rushed in. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize I was such a monster. Are you sure you even want this little whelp when I’m obviously destined to be a fuck up as a father?”

Lily shook her head. James wanted her to rise because he needed further reasons to hate himself. But she remained collected in the face of his breakdown. “You’re helpless,” she said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—which it was, “and that scares that pants off of you, doesn’t it, Prongs?”

“Helpless?” James laughed hollowly. “Among other things! Terrified, completely out of my depth—

“I don’t recall this being about you.”

“It’s _not_ ,” James said, all but giving in. “It’s about us, Lily. And the baby, but—

“I’m going to have a bath,” Lily said stonily. She got to her feet and pushed passed him with all the air of a glacier.

She left James alone in their room with only himself as company. James Potter couldn’t stand the company of James Potter for even the smallest of moments, hence his latching onto his friends the second he’d met them on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. That, more than anything, was why this imposed vacation here in Godric’s Hollow was driving him round the twist. Out there, dark as it was, he could be of use. Even with Lily here, James couldn’t escape himself; and now there was going to be a baby that needed him and would need him for the rest of its life, and what if he didn’t raise it properly or let something dreadful happen to it and—

James snarled. He heard the sound of the bathtub filling. Lily could be in there for hours--when she made her mind up, it stayed made, which was why he tried so hard to resolve their arguments. But this was no mere lover's squabble; this was one bad word away from being a disaster.

He had to get out, had to clear his head before he buried them both alive with his words and actions.

Seized by a stupid impulse, he stormed out of the room. He peeled his shirt over his head and left it on the floor; his socks came next, followed by his jeans and underwear until there was a trail of clothes leading from the room, along the hallway, down the stairs and to the back door. He wrenched the door to the yard open, and ran as fast as he could into the frosty night.

He was a majestic stag by the time he cleared the fence. The change was never painful the way Moony’s was; it was a sort of gradual unfolding of body and mind, almost like the lead up to an orgasm. Once in the guise of the stag, he jumped over the garden fence and cantered as hard and fast as he could into the woods.

This was reckless. Dumbledore in all his infinite wisdom hadn’t determined whether or not the Death Eaters knew that the Marauders were animagi. Then again, as James was growing more furious with the old man for having launched them all into this war, Dumbledore could eat crow.

A baby was grand, was wonderful, and Lily would make such a perfect mother. She was brave and warm and infuriating. As Prongs cantered through the dark, snowy woods, he pictured his wife—his doe—caring for a child. His anger and fear stilted for the briefest moments at the image. Then he saw himself, clumsy, impatient and frightened, dropping the baby; he saw the child grow, turning into the kind of unholy terror he himself had been.

Prongs halted near a clearing, his breathing as rapid as his heartbeat.

His own upbringing dictated nothing in terms of the way a child was brought up. After all, his parents had given him everything, been nothing but loving and supportive, and he had turned into a monster. He had been the worst kind of bully, arrogant and ignorant and beneath it all, completely self-loathing. Even with Moony, Wormtail and Padfoot by his side, he had become the hellion of the halls of Hogwarts. Fortune and luck had colluded to have him realize the error of his ways when Padfoot had nearly gotten Snivellus killed that night; but he didn’t know if that had been enough.

Certainly not enough to deserve Lily.

Not even remotely close to enough to deserve a child.

His hooves broke twigs and dry leaves in the frosty ground. Overhead, the stars were luminous in a wintry sky. His breaths snuffed from his muzzle in a misty vapour. It was a beautiful freedom, and the most wonderful serenity, but he could not enjoy it, not when it was over something so stupid and trivial as his own fear.

Because Lily was perfectly right.

He was even more helpless now in the face of fatherhood. He felt suddenly too young for it all—marriage, fatherhood, a war. Why couldn’t they have all just had something normal? Supposing the Death Eaters had never existed; he, his mates and his girl would likely be enjoying their evenings at _The Leaky Cauldron_ , complaining about work and doing everything in their power to find and hang onto love the way all young people did.

Instead they seemed doomed to be pawns in this endless battle. To bring a child into that—to not let it be out here, free in the world? To not be able to show it that beautiful silver moon shining full-bellied above the earth?

Hot, salty tears filled Prongs’ eyes. He tried blinking them away, but it was no good. He was so weary of trying—trying to pretend that he wasn’t worn out by this war; of pretending that all the losses weren’t breaking his heart in two. And mostly, he was tired of himself.

_I don’t know what to do_ , he thought as he looked at that big, brilliant moon. _I want us all to be safe again...I want my child to be safe..._

He received no reply from the cold, uncaring world at large, and he knew he never would. All there would be was what there was: himself, his Lily, and their baby.

If he couldn't at least try to manage that, then he was neither deserving of being a man nor a beast.

Sighing, Prongs turned and galloped back through the thick cover of trees. The thought that he could continue on into the night never he crossed his mind; he would never leave Lily like a coward. Still, as he jumped back over the fence and shifted to his naked human self, he couldn’t help but feel so wretched and diminished. It was as if the world expected him to have the answers now that he was to be a father, and he had nothing to give.

And neither did Lily. As James crept back inside and picked his clothes up, he knew how much of an epic prat he’d been in losing his grip like that. He, after all, wasn’t the one who would have to do the difficult work. He thought about what Sirius would say on the subject—that he’d had the easy part of the bargain. The thought made him chuckle, and the humour chased out his anger. He climbed the stairs, hearing Lily’s Muggle music playing from the cassette player in their bathroom.

“… _love is touching souls, surely you touched mine 'cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time_...”

Love is touching souls...a soul wasn’t perfect, because people weren’t perfect. All he could do was try and do the best that he could.

James climbed the rest of the stairs and followed the music into the bathroom. Lily had the lights off and several candles lit the better to relax. In the glow, her hair looked like real flame, and her skin like tempered gold.

She opened her eyes when James closed the door. She’d been crying, and that realization brought James to his knees as he approached the side of the bathtub.

Lily sat up and inclined her head over her shoulder. She was inviting him to join her. Conflicted and neurotic as he was, James wasn’t stupid enough to refuse that kind of request. He slipped into the hot water with Lily, legs caging her at either side. She wasted no time in settling against the strength of him.

James wrapped his arms around Lily’s body, and his hand came to rest at her stomach. Lily’s own hand covered his, and for a long while they stayed like that, the soft music the only sound in the room. They were two children, in too deep in every which way—with the war, with each other and with this miracle already growing in Lily.

But two out of three wasn’t bad, as James had learned.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” He pressed the softest kiss to Lily’s shoulder. “I’m such a prick, huh?”

Lily sighed. “No. You’re not. You were, once. That’s not who I fell in love with, though. I fell in love with someone who had it in him to change. I fell in love with someone who really was so kind and caring and loyal underneath all the posturing.” She lifted their joined hands and kissed James’ knuckles. “You’re going to be a phenomenal daddy, James.”

“Daddy.” James breathed the word. It sounded almost too good now that they were both out of the woods. Still, he couldn’t help but say in a voice threatening to break, “I’m so scared, Lils.”

“I know. How do you think I feel?”

“It’s just...what if I can’t protect you? Either of you?” To love something so much and then to lose it to the evil in the world... it made his heart hurt in ways he’d never thought it could.

“You will.” She said it as if it was something obvious that he’d completely forgotten. It was beyond conviction, beyond fact. Lily believed in him, believed that they could do this properly together. But that was how it had been from the get-go, hadn’t it? She’d seen those changes in him back at the end of Sixth Year when his ego had begun to give up the ghost; she’d coaxed him to being a better person, taken him by the hand and believed that he was decent. And because it was her, he’d wanted to be.

Because she wanted him to be a good father—because their baby needed a good father—he would be.

“I love you,” James said.

“Thank goodness for that,” Lily said teasingly. She turned herself around to face him in the bathtub. Then she was kissing him, sweet and giving as honey. When they broke apart, Lily slid securely onto the strength of James’ chest. “I love you too. You know that, don’t you?”

James smiled, combing his fingers through her hair. “I know.” He sighed, feeling the weight on his shoulders—the mantle of fatherhood bearing down on him once more. Only this time it wasn’t so crushing; this time he found he could take the brunt of it.

“A baby,” he sighed, bringing their conversation full circle. “Nine months and however many years.”

Lily shuddered. “Oh don’t. I’m enjoying this quiet time too much.”

James chuckled, and with a Cheshire Cat smile added, “I dare say my left hand and I will be very well acquainted over the next nine months.”

Lily grinned like a vixen. Her free hand trailed down James’ chest, to his waist and then further. James shivered at the contact.

“Oh, there are other outlets.”

And because she was so damn good to him, she showed him exactly what one of those outlets was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I appreciate every comment I get.


	4. Sirius Black and the Importance of Being Padfoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I truly appreciate everyone who reads, comments and leaves kudos on this story. Many thanks to you all!

There were three things Sirius loved in life. First, of course, was sex. He loved it so much that in Fifth Year, he’d found it necessary to broaden his horizons from the soft, pliant flesh of girls and enjoy the steely, silkiness of boys. Much of those activities had been partaken with the willing participation of his fellow Marauders, Moony most especially. Secondly, but far more important, were the people he loved. On any list save the one he admitted to himself, they came first. His family had been such a toxic cesspool that the notion of anyone else ever loving him had been something he'd thought fantasy--at least until James had wandered into his compartment on the Hogwarts Express one September morning.

He also loved food and drink. It was the one benefit to being a part of his wretched family that he could count on delicious meals and heady spirits. As he hadn’t been back to Grimmauld Place in many years, he’d had to do for himself. His mother would have worked herself into anemia had she seen her eldest son preparing meals for himself, but Sirius thoroughly enjoyed cooking. However, he also enjoyed it when others cooked for him. Add one of his many sexual partners, and also a friend he loved above himself cooking for him, and he was in Nirvana.

Stretched in front of a merrily crackling fire in the Potter’s house, Sirius hummed to himself. James was in the kitchen preparing a succulent meal of seared salmon, hearty sprouts and rice for the two of them. Sirius has brought his portion of their little meal in the form of a bottle of red wine. He was already at the stage of mild inebriation where everything had soft edges and pastel colours. In the midst of all the despair of late, there was nothing quite like his best mate—sometimes in the literal sense—enjoying dinner with him.

Lily had gone out to visit friends, which was a shame. Sirius had been so busy with the Order that he hadn’t seen Lily for some months, and he was sore for the sight of her and the sound of her voice, goading him into some pointless game of verbal choice or other. But he wasn’t about to look a gift stag in the mouth, and James had a very, very gifted mouth indeed.

Sirius barked a laugh at his own internal euphemism.

“Amused?” James walked in from the kitchen carrying their food on trays.

“Yes. At how domestic you’ve become, mate. All that’s missing is the frilly apron.”

“Funnily enough, we have one of those in the attic.” James sat down across from Sirius, and wasted no time in pouring himself a goblet of wine.

Sirius scoffed, and James blew him a mocking kiss. “Come off it,” James said. “You’d love to see me walking around in half a French maid outfit. Although as a warning, it’s quite short on me.”

“Oh no,” Sirius said dryly, “imagine the thought of me getting an eyeful of your todger.”

James grimaced as if he’d swallowed a whole lemon. “Don’t talk to me about my piece. I’m angry at it right now.”

Sirius snorted around a mouthful of rice. “Angry? Enough to start beating it?”

“That’s about all I’ll have time for.”

“Really? With your gorgeous wife around?” Sirius pointed his knife menacingly at James. “Don’t make me intervene. I’m not afraid to open the Kama Sutra.”

James glowered at the end of Sirius’ knife, but said nothing. He stared moodily at his plate of food while Sirius ate with all the table manners of a dog. Despite his ravenous hunger, however, Sirius wasn’t entirely unaware of James’ sullen silence. Ordinarily the two of them fought for dominance in whatever conversation was taking place; and although being together meant that the facade of disaffected machismo and bravado could come down, they nonetheless tended to talk ad infinitum for hours.

Something was clearly up. It wasn’t terribly hard to wonder what. This war of theirs had been going on and on for what seemed endless years. James and Lily had already narrowly escaped death three times; Sirius had lost count of how often he’d evaded detection, to say nothing of the allies they’d lost...the friends who had died for this cause.

“Prongs,” Sirius said. He spoke the name with the softness of a call to God. James’ sour mood lightened somewhat. He mustered a smile, and gently kicked at Sirius’ socked foot with his own.

“We’re going to be fine,” Sirius went on. “You and me, we’re too good-looking. Moony is too kind and Lily is too incredible. Wormtail too. He’s loyal. You’ll see. It’s all going to work out in the end.” He was saying it as much to bolster James as he was himself. There wasn’t a great amount of conviction in his voice; there was, however, genuine love for the man across from him and all their friends. That, as far as Sirius had learned in life, mattered far more than telling anything that might transpire into truth.

James sighed. He looked at his untouched plate, and then slowly said, “It isn't just the war."

"Then what is it?" He hesitated to add, "Tell me, for the love of God. Don't you know how much I love you?"

James took another deep breath. "Lily and I are going to have a baby, Pads. She’s at least a month along now.”

A chunk of fragrant salmon slid off the tines of Sirius’ fork. He stared at James, anticipating that little quirk around his pretty pink lips that gave him away in the middle of a jest; it never came. Millions of thoughts raced through Sirius’ mind, but the only thing he could do was grin broadly, swat James on the knee, and say “Mate!” in a loud, congratulatory voice.

James smiled as if he’d just been informed that he would win a billion Galleons at the cost of his left bollock. Sirius, however, couldn’t help but beam.

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” Sirius said as he tucked back into his meal with a vengeance and a havoc. “All this vacation time and nothing else to do but shag.”

“Thank you,” James said witheringly. “It’s quite possibly the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. And before you start,” he added, for Sirius had been primed to let a vulgar remark fly, “I was referring to actually being someone’s dad.”

Sirius frowned. “Terrifying? Come off it, mate. I've known you for what? Over ten years now? We've lived together on and off school grounds and done about a hundred other things that makes us more than friends. You're smarter than you think, a lot braver than you believe and a lot bloody kinder than you give yourself credit for. You’ll make an amazing father.”

James blinked, his ears turning red at the vociferous praise. “Wow. That’s good of you to say, Sirius. Thank you.”

“Can’t have you falling to pieces with a baby on the way.” In all good conscience, Sirius couldn’t abide any of the people he loved falling apart. Not when the act of simply being in his life made them so remarkable in his eyes.

Of course, rare was the time when he would actually say that aloud. “So,” he said as he gulped more wine, “I trust that the act was at least memorable.”

James chuckled. To Sirius’ relief, he started tucking into the dinner he'd spent so long preparing. “It was. Really damn amazing, actually.”

The old James Potter would have boasted about every little last detail. Sirius had lost count of the time that they would while away the hours in Gryffindor Tower, talking about all their various conquests both real and imagined. It had been good fortune that James had smartened up by the time he reached his sexual peak, and by that time, Lily had become a part of their lives.

James laughed and added, “It was actually a little bit unexpected. Moony was over filling us in on that stakeout near Angleshire, and it just...kind of happened.”

“You mean he watched? I’m jealous.”

“No, he most certainly did _not_ watch. I mean that I made an excuse to nip off upstairs with Lily, and one thing led to another.”

“Led to another and then led to this,” Sirius finished. He leaned against the cushions of the armchair, regarding James with a smirk. “Well, face it tiger: you just hit the jackpot.”

“What?”

“God, you’re hopeless, Prongs. You’ve been with a muggle-born beauty for ages and you know nothing about their world.” Sirius scarfed down his remaining salmon. “It’s from a muggle comic book that I’m rather fond of. And I guess I’ll have loads of time to catch up on all the back issues I’ve missed for the next eighteen years.”

“What are you talking about?”

Now it was Sirius’ turn to suffer a fit of melancholy. As was apt to happen whenever a profound emotion struck him, the feeling hit hard and hit fast.

“It’s nothing,” Sirius said. But he knew James wouldn’t accept that for an answer. Sirius had the unfortunate tendency of wearing his emotions on his face—something everyone in his wretched family tree had decided to throw back at him every chance they got.

“Dog shit,” James said decidedly.

“Careful, Prongs. I might take offense to that.”

James sighed. “Don’t go getting your muzzle on the ground. You’re going to be a part of our lives.” He pinned Sirius with that volcanic rock stare of his, and Sirius, utterly powerless, remained mute. “I need you, Sirius. I need you all , and Lily does too; and now so does our baby. So you can forget about being afraid that nobody is going to have time to scratch behind your ears, because Lily and I have already decided that we want you to be the baby’s godfather.”

“I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” Sirius said in his best imitation of Marlon Brando. But again, James wasn’t buying the feigned disaffection.

And as James was so bloody remarkable—as he had such power over his best friend—he didn’t even have to say a word to bring Sirius to heel: all he did was look him dead in the eye. The armor cracked and then fell away. A part of Sirius that he’d been taught to bury—by his family, by social mores and by virtue of his being a man in a world that delineated traditional gender stereotypes—broke through the strata of toughness, aloofness and bravado.

His best friend was asking him to be a part of this new life—to be there for his baby and for his beautiful Lily. He wouldn’t be cast out like a mongrel—he would be here, with James--with James' new family.

Blinking a hot well of tears out of his eyes, Sirius went back to his food. James watched him for a moment, and then likewise returned to the meal. They ate in a silence that spoke everything each couldn’t say aloud; every so often they caught one another’s eyes and grinned. Everything about James seemed magnified in Sirius’s mind now: his strength was titanic; his humor headier than potent wine. He was somehow much more handsome, a vision of a god come to earth. It seemed so odd to Sirius that something as base as sex had brought about this kind of change in not only James and Lily’s life, but the lives of everyone they knew and loved.

Despite his effort to maintain some kind of dignity, Sirius couldn’t help but think of the act that had given Lily new life. He’d seen James naked plenty of times—had felt the heat of his body often enough that he was sometimes unsure of who knew it better between the two of them. But however the act had been, it was all the more remarkable because it had made life. To Sirius, sex was either gratification or an expression of something deep and profound. Now that he had been touched in this way by the actual purpose...well, it wasn’t as juvenile as it had once been.

James collected their dishes and went to the kitchen to wash them. So great was the love that Sirius felt for him that he was moved by a notion to follow this warm, courageous father-to-be and kiss him. But he wanted something more, something on a higher level of profundity.

His clothes fell into a puddle around him as he shifted into the form of an immense black dog. On soft, strong paws, he padded across the living room floor and into the kitchen.

He met James halfway there, in the front foyer. James smiled when he saw Padfoot; the dog was so big that the top of his smooth, black head reached near James’ waist.

“Aw, puppy,” James said lovingly. He knelt down, and massaged smooth circles behind Padfoot's ears. “You’re going to be Uncle Padfoot from now on. How’s that sound to you, huh?”

Padfoot barked softly, and then brushed his warm, damp nose against the side of James’ face. He couldn’t speak in this form, of course, but he’d learned long ago that animals could communicate certain things better than humans. One such way for dogs was through their eyes; and with his big, amber eyes, Sirius spoke one thing over and over again: _I love you, I love you, I love you_.

James lightly pecked him on the top of his head. Long ago the Marauders and Lily had elected not to kiss Padfoot anywhere near his nose or mouth. For Sirius, being young and hormonal, had more than once enjoyed a dog’s ability to lick his own balls.

Righting himself, James said, “Come on, pup. I’m dead on my feet and in need of company tonight.”

Padfoot trotted happily behind James. They went back into the living room; once there, James stoked the dying fire, and then curled up on the couch. He patted the space near his legs and, despite being the size of a black bear, Padfoot hopped up next to him.

James stroked Padfoot’s silky black fur. Man and dog stayed silent, Padfoot thumping his tail gently in time to James’ heartbeat. Here, at home, they were safe. With a bright future before them, neither felt inclined to entertain worry or doubt. Eventually James fell asleep, and after several moments staring at his friend, brother, lover and master, Padfoot curled into a cozy ball of fur, and likewise drifted off.

He dreamed of a small boy with James’ unruly dark hair and Lily’s bright green eyes. Padfoot smiled in his sleep.

He’d always wanted a family; but the want was needless because he’d always had this one. Now it was growing, and he couldn’t have been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	5. Minerva McGonagall and the Tiding of Joy

The holidays were often a time for reflection. Minerva had tried hard to endure the lure of memory and nostalgia all her life. Despite her age, the time of year when snow coated the Hogwarts grounds and carols filled the halls often brought her back to a simple but misspent youth. The ghost that haunted her the most was one in the shape of a life she could have had—one filled with children and gardening and a bright, happy home.

But life, in all its caprices, had not led her down that path. Instead of children of her own, she had been called upon to watch over and instruct the children of others. It was a fraught vocation; Minerva wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world, but she was only human. The difference between Hogwarts any other time of the year and Hogwarts during Christmas holidays was startlingly profound.

It was a good deal more silent, which Minerva was inwardly thankful for. Free to wander the festooned halls at her leisure, she had but to cast a glance at the very few students staying behind who felt the need to act like ne’er-do-wells and, and behold, they would behave.

Today, the beginning of her vacation, she was ensconced comfortably in her office. Her eyes roved over the paperback muggle romance novel that her dear friend Augusta Longbottom had been kind enough to owl over as a present. It was a carefully guarded secret of Minerva’s, this guilty pleasure enjoyment of racy love stories. But as Albus had told her when he’d accidentally come across her small supply, all and sundry in this world were allowed to have their indulgences.

The memory of the headmaster borrowing one of the more sordid books made Minerva grin to herself. Mad as he appeared to the outside world, Albus was what he was—brilliant, understanding and, above all else, weighed by innumerable tragedy. It wasn’t Minerva’s place to pry—after all, he had once been her professor, and it had taken her time enough to get comfortable with the notion of his being a colleague and friend. But she knew the heaviness in the man’s heart—could see it in his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped day after day.

Minerva sighed. Her thoughts had turned to the war, and she didn’t want to think about that. It was Christmas, after all. Regardless of what was happening in the world outside, she wanted this time out of all the year to feel some sense of peace.

A sharp series of pecks at her bedroom window caused Minerva to look up from her book. A tawny barn owl was feebly rapping at the windowpane. There was an envelope clasped in its beak, and due to the snow and wind, it looked in danger of freezing to death.

Minerva got to her feet and let the poor creature in. It all but flopped onto her desk, upsetting a jar of gummy mints. Shaking the snow from its wings, it attempted to appear dignified as it held the letter forth for Minerva’s perusal.

Minerva took the letter, and then gestured at the fireplace. The owl took a gummy mint into its beak, and then hastily fluttered to the hearth to warm its feathers.

Turning the envelope over, Minerva saw beautiful handwriting in burgundy ink addressed to her. She smiled to herself and slit the envelope open.

She hadn’t heard from James Potter in months. After he and his wife had nearly escaped from harm a third time, Albus had suggested that they take some much-needed time away from their work with the Order. Such allowances had grown far more numerous over the years; a sign of the strain of constant loss and terminal guilt. Minerva knew full well that these sacrifices were all for the greater good; but there were many times of late when she’d felt the grasp of resentment. How far would this bloody disaster go until either You Know Who or Albus were satisfied?

Minerva’s lips thinned as she withdrew James’ letter. If this wasn’t good news, she decided, then there was a high chance she would fling herself from the Astronomy Tower.

_Dear Professor McGonagall_ —

Minerva rolled her eyes but couldn’t prevent the tiniest of smiles. Several years out of Hogwarts and he and his lot still insisted on calling her “professor.”

_Dear Professor McGonagall,_

_Merry Christmas! I hope the holidays are treating you as good as ever. I know that this time of year tends to be a bother, especially to one as youthful and beautiful such as yourself—_

Minerva laughed aloud at that. Mercy, but she did miss the cheeky little terror. Certainly he’d mellowed out after hitting the age of sixteen, and thanks be to goodness for that. But more than once she’d deducted points from he, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew for simply making her laugh when she didn’t want to.

_—I have it on very good authority that a vat of aged red wine is still exists behind the statue of Angele da la Berthe on the Fourth Floor. At the expense of you risking your esteemed reputation, I’d highly recommend sampling the vintage if you find yourself afflicted with a case of the Christmas Blues._

_But I digress._

_The reason I wanted to write you was to let you be the first at Hogwarts to know the good news. Lily and I are going to have a baby! She’s due some time in July—_

Minerva audibly gasped. The owl snoozing near the fire hooted curiously at the disruption, one immense orange eye casting her a dubious glance.

She finished reading James’ letter, her heart hammering excitedly in her chest. Lily was doing well, as was James, although his meandering sentences suggested that he was trying hard to distract himself from the full weight of fatherhood.

By the time she reached the “Love, James,” portion, Minerva had prickly tears of joy in her eyes. She’d always felt a strange maternal affection for James, and as for Lily, the girl was the next best thing to a daughter she’d ever known. And now they were having a child, who would come to Hogwarts and Minerva would get to teach it and, oh what a wonderful thing to happen in all this chaos!

Minerva sprang to her feet, the letter clutched in her hand. She flew from her office, ignoring the owl’s disgruntled hoot as this latest act woke it from a sleep.

She ran clear through the ghost of Sister Sandrine, who gasped indignantly in the middle of her repetitive prayers. She nearly collided with a frightened second year, but still Minerva did not stop. She had to tell Albus, had to lift his spirits.

“Wine gums,” Minerva said breathlessly to the stone gargoyle on the seventh floor. It leapt out of the way, and Minerva sprinted up the spiral staircase. She was out of breath and red faced by the time she reached Albus’s office door. Adjusting her hat, Minerva knocked and the entered.

Albus was bent over one of his many spindly silver instruments. The winter sunlight shining through the windows around his tower made his silver hair and beard look all the more seer.

“Ah, Minerva. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He stood straight up; the strange device on his desk began emitting a series of sputtering wheezes. Purple and green puffs of smoke erupted from it. Albus glared at the contraption, and then swatted it with his wand. It went silent instantly.

“I thought you ought to know,” Minerva said, trying and failing to keep her voice even. “I just received this from James Potter.”

Worry lined Albus’ sparkling blue eyes. “I trust everything is all right with he and Lily?”

Minerva handed him the letter in response. She waited, and studied his face as he read. At first, he smiled softly at the familiar tone James had taken. Then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair for the briefest of moments when he read the announcement of Lily’s pregnancy. Minerva expected him to smile once more—but then his whole face seemed to collapse in on itself, as if some hidden emotion had siphoned expression away too fast for it to form. He read to the end of the letter; Minerva noticed his hand tremble as he handed the parchment back to her.

“A baby,” he said softly. “Oh, that’s so wonderful.” He turned away and walked towards the window.

“Albus?” Minerva had no idea what to do or say. Any other occasion of his students starting families would have been cause of jubilation. Why would the news of Lily and James having a baby drive him to such a state.

Albus turned, his profile visible to Minerva. In the light of the winter storm she saw a tear spill down the man’s cheek.

Minerva hurried forth. “Albus, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said gently. “It’s only that I’m so very happy.” But the heartbroken way in which he spoke left Minerva feeling that he was anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, as they say, is that! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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